


That Way

by advictorem



Series: make you mine [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bathroom Sex, Childhood Trauma, Drinking, F/F, F/M, House Party, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Oral Sex, Party, Quickies, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Theyna - Freeform, step mama drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advictorem/pseuds/advictorem
Summary: Part 2 of the "make you mine" series.Reyna attends Thalia's homecoming party; Thalia can't stop thinking about Reyna.orThalia can’t shake the feeling—friends don’t look at friends that way.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Clarisse La Rue/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Series: make you mine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743622
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will have 2 or 3 chapters. Continuation of "Swipe Right.”
> 
> TW: alcohol abuse, childhood trauma, drug use, child abuse.

Reyna hasn’t been able to wipe the smile from her face in days. Even now, she stands in her small kitchen, bracing herself against the counter, a big, stupid grin on her face. It’s been a week since Thalia spent the weekend with her, and she can’t stop thinking about it.

She hasn’t had that much fun in a long time. Not only had the sex been _fucking_ incredible, but she enjoyed the moments in between, too. She recalls the feeling of Thalia’s surprisingly affectionate arms holding her tightly, like they never wanted to let her go. Their conversations had been so lively—talks of their future plans and things Thalia experienced living 3,000 miles away.

 _“You’re trying to get into law enforcement?”_ Thalia had asked, pretending to be worried. _“Is this a set-up?”_

At one point, Jason had video-called her, only to see his half-naked sister sneaking up behind her in the kitchen. With a scream that rivaled a goat’s, Jason had hung up in a flurry of misguided finger taps.

Not only had the conversation been good, but Thalia had been so _sweet—_ fronting the money for every meal, insisting on ordering all the takeout she had missed when she had been gone.

Everything had been nearly perfect; and she says _nearly_ because the entire time neither of them had gotten around to having the conversation. _The_ conversation; the one you were supposed to have after hook-ups that mind-blowing.

Sure, they still send snaps back and forth, the sexual tension almost too much to bear. The teasing bits of skin Thalia sends her never fail to rile her up. By now, she has most of the tattoos on her chest memorized—if only because Reyna has spent hours staring at the same snapchat. Thalia was ballsy—she never put a time limit on her snaps.

Thalia will take pictures at an angle that Reyna can tell that she’s shirtless, but she never dips the camera below the traditional-style Spartan helmet that’s etched into olive skin, centered between sharp collarbones. The rest of her chest tattoo branches off from the helmet, in an array of eagle wings and keraunographic marks—conjoined lightning flowers that she’s had forever. She’s built tattoos around the scars to distract from them, but Reyna thinks they’re beautiful.

Thalia knows how attractive she is, and she loves the attention. Reyna doesn’t give in; she resists the urge to screenshot.

Reyna replies to her snaps with selfies of her own—always fully clothed, but she spends more time than she would like to admit on her appearance before pressing send. Reyna wants to make Thalia work for it a bit.

She knows Thalia won't mind the challenge.

Reyna feels like an enamored woman in a cheesy Rom-Com flick, but she wants to cut to the chase and ask: _What are we? And can we have sex again? Soon?_

She doesn’t just like Thalia for the sex, obviously; she’s had a crush on the older woman for going on ten years now, when she was a scrawny, awkward 12-year-old and Thalia had been an illustrious fifteen, crazily unattainable.

Still, even though Reyna knows a lot about her, it’s all been mostly hearsay from her family since she left for Cali. She wants to go on dates with Thalia and get to know her better, as a romantic interest rather than her best friend’s hot older sister. But is that something that Thalia wants? The question has been haunting her since Friday.

She knows she’s being stupid, beating around the bush. She should just give her a call and ask to meet up in person, but she’s terrified of scaring Thalia away. Reyna’s never pictured her as the settling down type, even though she’s had a couple long-term relationships.

And Reyna has tried to do the whole relationship thing a couple times; frankly, she wasn’t sure she was suited for it herself.

Her phone buzzes and the vibration almost sends her phone off the edge of the kitchen counter. She snatches it quickly before it can fall, seeing her best friend’s face on the screen. Jason’s tongue is sticking out, one of his eyes closed goofily, and his arm is draped around her shoulders.

Reyna swipes to accept the call, and Jason’s picture is replaced by the real thing. He’s dressed comfortably, in a pair of gray sweat shorts and a yellow tank top that shows off his arms. His blond hair is sticking up in places, there are slight bags under his eyes, and she can tell he just crawled out of bed. Jason is sitting at his desk; she spots his unmade bed behind him to attest to her previous assessment.

Reyna can’t help her smile at the sight of him.

“Hey,” she says simply, pulling a bag of grapes out of her fridge. She should go grocery shopping soon. “What’s up?”

Jason looks to his right, where his bedroom door is, making sure that they’re alone, before he turns back to face the camera. “You busy tonight?”

“No,” she says, snapping a grape off a stem and popping it into her mouth. “You want to come over? Is everything okay?”

Jason smiles at her consideration but shakes his head in the negative. “Nah, nothing like that. We’re throwing a party tonight, to celebrate Thalia coming back into town.”

His smile turns a little devious, like he knows more than she thinks he does. It wouldn’t surprise her if Thalia filled him in. Reyna unwillingly blushes, shoving a couple more grapes in her mouth to distract herself.

“So, what do you say?” he asks slyly. “You down to swing by? We’re starting at 7.”

Reyna flushes a brighter red. The thought of being close to Thalia again, so soon after their weekend together sends a shiver down her spine.

“I’ll be there,” she says, ignoring his knowing chuckle. “Are your Mom and Dad going to be home?”

“For the first part of the night,” he answers. He slid his glasses from his hair, causing them to tumble onto his nose. “Do you need me to come pick you up?”

Reyna shakes her head.

“Do you need _Thalia_ to come pick you up?” he challenges, laughing at her resulting glare. “I’m serious! She won’t shut the hell up about you.”

Reyna’s heart stutters. She decides to play it cool, although she knows Jason can see through her like cellophane. “Oh, really?”

Jason nods with a façade of seriousness. “Yeah, real detailed stuff. Pretty gross.”

She rolls her dark eyes at him, not going to play into his game any longer. “Yeah, yeah.” She zips the bag of grapes before placing it back into the stainless-steel fridge. “So, has she really said anything?”

Jason shrugs, clearly uncomfortable. She recognizes the expression on his face—she may be his best friend, but he isn’t going to divulge anything Thalia doesn’t want him to.

_Well, you brought up the conversation, amigo._

“She’s been flexing around the house more so than usual,” he offers with a fake look of disgust. “Juno got so annoyed she made her mow the lawn.”

Juno is their stepmother. While she hasn’t always been entirely _good_ to either of them, she has been getting better as they age. Still, something about Thalia has always gotten on her nerves.

Reyna doesn’t know too much about her past before moving to New York. All that she knows she has heard secondhand from Jason. The siblings were separated when Jason was two, leaving Thalia to endure their alcoholic mother alone while Mr. Grace won custody over him. She lived in Pasadena up until her mother passed away, and her father was finally able to take her in. Juno and Thalia’s relationship has always been rocky at best, but Reyna attributes it more to her stepmother’s hatred of their birth mother than a genuine dislike of Thalia as a person.

Who could _honestly_ hate Thalia? Besides her ex-girlfriends, that is.

“I bet Thalia didn’t like that,” Reyna contributes to the conversation, trying to banish the thought of Thalia’s ex-lovers from her mind. “At least the yard will look nice for the party.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason agrees enthusiastically. “Dad was going to make me do it.” He looks away, a bit guilty. “Thank God that Thalia’s back in town.”

Reyna believes Thalia thanked God close to a hundred times while she was inside of her.

She tucks an irate strand of hair behind her ear. _Stop thinking about that. You’ll never make it through this party._

She starts to say something, but a boisterous voice rings out off-camera. “J! Keep talkin’ shit, I dare you!”

Reyna remembers how close their rooms are; the estate included a six-bedroom home, so they had always had plenty of choices, but Thalia’s room has always been right across from his.

She wonders what else Thalia might have overheard.

Jason grins the way he always does when Thalia harasses him, all teeth, causing wrinkles to appear in the corner of his sky-blue eyes. Despite spending so many years apart, they’re impressively close.

Reyna envies their connection. She used to be that close to her older sister, Hylla, before their mother left and their father’s PTSD turned him into a shell of his former self. Reyna would be lying if she said she didn’t hold it against Hylla—she’s the eldest, she’s supposed to _protect_ Reyna, but she hadn’t. Hylla had abandoned her, leaving the burden of keeping their father alive on her shoulders.

Reyna guesses Thalia understands that, at least, having lived with her mom for so long.

“What are _you_ gonna do about it?” he antagonizes right back. Something rattles off-screen, and she hears thundering footsteps. Jason laughs shrilly, propping his phone up on his desktop just in time. “Thalia! No!”

A muscled arm that Reyna knows all too well wraps around Jason’s throat, heaving him from his office chair. He is laughing through the assault as she drags him across the hardwood floor of his spacious bedroom. Reyna sees her full body now, draped in a sleeveless _Distillers_ shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. Her hair is devoid of styling gel, sticking up in the same hilarious way Jason’s is.

She watches on with an amused smile as they wrestle around on his bedroom floor, Jason finally getting the upper hand. He has Thalia’s head in a leglock, squeezing enough to hold her in place but not to the point that she’s missing out on any precious oxygen.

Reyna can think of forty ways Thalia should be able to break out of that hold, but the older girl still struggles to break free. It’s amusing to see Thalia, usually so imposing and boastful, unable to escape a simple leg-lock. Reyna wonders how easy it would be to pin her down.

She stifles her laughter, but it’s too late. Thalia’s sparkling eyes meet hers, and she’s conveying an amused message with her gaze: _What are you laughing at, punk?_

“J, let me go,” she warns, to her brother’s amusement. “If you don’t let me go, I’m gonna headbutt your balls.”

Jason releases her instantly, crawling away from her and shielding his goods. “Reyna won’t let you get away with that!”

Thalia grins wolfishly, flipping to her feet like she hadn’t just lost a fight. She saunters over to the desk confidently, taking Jason’s seat despite his objections.

“Hey there.”

Reyna is suddenly hyperaware of her own breathing. “Hey.”

“What do you say?” Thalia drawls, her voice taking on a familiar octave—the same tone she had used when she was seven inches deep inside of Reyna. “You gonna let me get away with it?”

“You’re fucking gross,” Jason complains, shoving at her broad shoulder to get her to move out of the way. “Go clean the pool. You can talk to her at the party.”

Thalia leaves his chair reluctantly, but not without winking at the sight of a blushing Reyna. “See you tonight, Rey.”

“Bye,” she says sheepishly, watching as Thalia ruffles Jason’s hair and struts away. When she’s sure Thalia has left his room, she sighs wistfully.

Jason rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his face. “I warned you about her ego.”

“I like it,” Reyna says softly. “Most of the time.”

Jason shakes his head in amusement. “That makes one of us, then,” he jokes.

“So…” Reyna trails off. It might be rude to ask this, but she can’t help her curiosity. “Who’s all coming tonight?”

“The gang,” Jason says immediately. “Frank, Hazel, Pipes, maybe Leo.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Nico is my plus one. Thalia is inviting some of her friends, of course.”

“How are you and Nico?” Reyna asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Now it’s Jason’s turn to blush. “Amazing,” he says wistfully. His eyes get that faraway look in them they always do when he’s thinking about his boyfriend. “After he picked me up on Friday, he cooked me a candlelit dinner. And, I don’t know if you’ve ever had an Italian man’s cooking, but there’s no going back.”

Reyna laughs. “I’ve had Nico’s cooking,” she admits. “It is to die for.”

She remembers rooming with Nico, freshmen year of college, before they really got to know each other. Nico would cook his dinner almost every night, silently judging Reyna for binging on ramen and TV meals. One day, a couple months in, he couldn’t take anymore. He started cooking double portions, offering it to her under the ruse that he had cooked too much for himself. They became quick friends over their shared dinners, and Nico had come clean and told her that her eating habits drove him crazy.

One thing hasn’t changed—Nico’s cooking is incredible.

Jason smiles gently. “Thanks for introducing us, Rey.”

“No problem,” she replies in kind. “Thanks for sliding in your big sister’s DMs for me.”

Jason winks. It’s not nearly as smooth as Thalia’s wink, but he tries his best. “You got it.” He inclines his head like he can hear someone calling for him. He looks at her again and sighs. “I have to go. Juno is back from the bakery. See you at 7?”

“7 sharp,” she confirms with an excited smile. “Bye, Jason.”

“Bye!”

_What the hell was she supposed to wear?_

* * *

Thalia has never been the type to obsess. She is much more accustomed to _being_ the object of obsession. It comes as an enormous surprise when she can’t seem to stop thinking about Reyna, her brother’s childhood best-friend and her newly acquired lover.

Thalia has had a lot of sex, but it’s _never_ been like that. She’s never even allowed another girl to top her—she detests surrendering her control, giving someone that level of power over her—and she had let Reyna get away with it the first night. Did that mean anything?

She shakes her head at her own ridiculousness, sparking up the freshly-rolled blunt in her fingers. She has stopped smoking cigarettes for good, and she doesn’t smoke weed too often, but Juno has been getting on her last fucking nerve.

It’s only two hours before the party, and she’s already so nervous she wants to ditch. Thalia doesn’t get nervous—not since she’s lived in New York. Still, all that attention on her—her parents _knew_ she didn’t want to make a big deal about her homecoming—is unwarranted.

Thalia wonders who gave her parents the idea, anyway—was it because Jason had asked them? He has always been their favorite, the dutiful, cardboard cut-out perfect son, who maintained good grades and stayed away from drugs.

Is the idea out of the kindness of their hearts?

Thalia scoffs, nearly choking on her last inhale in the process. She doesn’t doubt that her father is proud of her—he might not be the most forthcoming with his emotions, but he’s financially supported her schooling and has never given her grief about her music.

Juno, on the other hand? Juno wouldn’t agree to something fun unless she had an ulterior motive; maybe she is going to wait until Thalia gets super fucked up and call the cops on them. It wouldn’t be the first time Juno has stared smugly at her from the other side of a tinted police car window.

Or maybe it is just Juno’s sly way of forcing Thalia into doing a bunch of yardwork for free.

It hadn’t taken Thalia long to clean out the pool. She snorts derisively. Her father has all this money, but Juno still insists on pawning off all the chores on Thalia. She cocks her head, considering. _At least she doesn’t make me do the cooking._

Then again, that could just be to spare their guests from food poisoning.

“Thalia!”

A call from downstairs rouses her from her high-brained introspection. She extinguishes her blunt in her bathroom sink, heaving an exasperated sigh. She sprays herself down with cologne to mask the smell of her transgression.

She feels calmer after smoking, but she knows her high won’t last. It never seems to.

As she exits her Spartan bedroom—which had once been decorated much as her soul was, with punk rock posters and chipped ashtrays—she runs into Jason in the hallway.

“Dad’s calling you,” he tells her unhelpfully.

“I know,” she replies briskly.

Jason quirks an eyebrow. When she makes to charge down the stairs, he grabs her by the arm, preventing her from leaving.

“What?” she asks, concern stirring beneath her aggravation.

He shrugs out of his shirt, surrendering it to her. He wrinkles his nose playfully. “Dad will smell that from miles away. Here, change.”

Thalia spares him a grateful smile, before she pulls her own shirt over her head.

“You have no shame,” Jason accuses, turning his gaze away respectfully. “Keep your clothes on for this party, please.”

Thalia pulls his shirt over her head, tossing hers into his expectant hands. She can’t help but grin mischievously, much to his annoyance. “No promises, baby brother,” she jokes. “You’re the one that invited Reyna.”

She mostly says it to make him uncomfortable and shut him up; but, it seems, he’s used to her humor by now, because he gives as good as he got.

“Only because you begged me to,” he reminded just as coyly. “ _So, uh, you wanna invite your best friend?_ ”

His impression of her elicits a dangerous glare.

“Fine,” he surrenders, raising his hands in his defense. “Go see Dad, you know his patience runs thin on his best days.”

Thalia scowls but agrees with him. “Okay,” she relents. “If he kills me, delete my browsing history.”

“No chance,” Jason replies drolly.

Her brain feels hazy as she jogs down the hardwood, helixed stairs, her hands slipping along the industrial railing. Her father is waiting for her on the bottom of the staircase, in the mouth of the foyer, bulging arms crossed tightly over his suit-covered chest. He’s one of the few people she knows that towers over her—he’s 6’5”, and barrel-chested. He makes Jason look average. She wonders how he finds time in his day for a workout regime, but he’s always managed.

His voice is deeper than hers and Jason’s combined. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“We have two hours,” she points out nonchalantly. “And your wife hired me on as groundskeeper.”

He acts annoyed, but there’s a small, amused smile playing at his beard-framed lips. “Very well,” he relents gruffly. “Dress nicely. Your mother and I will not be joining you this evening, but we expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m 25,” she reminds, slowly, like it’s offensive he even felt the need to warn her. “I won’t bring the house down.”

Her father knows she’s basically been an adult since middle school. If she could take care of a drunk, abusive piece of shit at eleven-years-old, then she could be trusted to host a small house party at 25.

“See that you don’t,” he says, his electric blue eyes sorrowful and apologetic, contrasting with his serious tone.

Thalia knows he’s only saying all this to avoid a confrontation with his wife. Thalia has always suspected that a small part of him, close to the surface, regrets subjecting her to her rough childhood, and feels guilty for not trying _harder_ —with the types of lawyers he could afford, it shouldn’t have taken him so long to win custody over her.

She’s kidding herself by entertaining that line of thought. Her father waited to adopt her, on purpose, for one simple reason—he felt bad for abandoning Beryl, so he trapped Thalia there to take care of her.

Nevertheless, she owes him—at least, now she does. He puts a roof over her head, he let her do as she pleased in school, giving her a freedom Jason never had, and he financially supported her career, whereas most parents would have mocked her for it.

Thalia musters a smile, feeling like she must after her ungrateful internal diatribe. The sadness melts from her dad’s eyes into something solid—she’s forgiven him for his lecture, he can let it go now and stop pretending like he cares.

She sees Juno moving to stand behind her imposing father, and her smile slowly fades. Everything about Juno is beautiful and graceful—except for the nasty grimace on her face. Her chestnut hair is tied into an elaborate tendril twist. Her makeup is light and natural—she really doesn’t need it, but she’s insecure about the frown lines around her full lips. She’s wearing a golden evening dress, and there are enough diamonds in her accessories to buy another yacht.

Together, her parents look like the front cover of Forbes magazine.

“Ensure Apollo doesn’t tear up the kitchen again,” Juno adds. “We’ve catered more than enough food from _Demeter’s_ for tonight.”

 _Demeter’s Grecian Bistro_ is a family-favorite; and by that she means it’s the restaurant Dad always takes them to whenever he has important news to share about his business exploits.

Thalia shrugs. “Last time I checked, the only adult I’m responsible for is myself.”

_Not ever again._

She can’t help her sass—that woman just never fails to bring it out of her.

Juno’s eyes droop in warning. “What a job you do of _that_ ,” she insults haughtily. “Don’t think we can’t smell it on you. You’ve already been doing drugs again.”

Thalia doesn’t deny it. She’s 25, and where she comes from it’s legal. “I know it’s hard for you to remember anything that happened after the 80’s, but weed isn’t a drug now.”

A great way to get a rise out of Juno? Insult her age. Thalia’s been doing it for years.

Juno has a slight pinkish tint to her face now. “Well, don’t think I didn’t see the oil stains in the driveway. I expect you to pressure wash it off before your little party.”

“I already did everything else you told me to do,” Thalia retorts angrily. “How ‘bout you give Jason something to do today?”

Juno quirks a brow in disbelief, arms readjusting across her chest, tightening. “You did _everything_? Including cleaning the pool?”

Thalia scowls. Juno is just grasping at straws now. “Yeah. Duh.”

“ _Yes, ma’am_ ,” her stepmother corrects, huffing. “Honestly.”

“And now you’re telling me how to _speak_?” Thalia snaps. She looks to her dad for back-up; his silence tells her all she needs to know—he’s not coming to her rescue.

“Someone has to,” Juno argues vehemently. “Your mother sure didn’t teach you any manners—”

Thalia’s cheeks flare, and sparks fly off her tongue as she retorts. “Don’t talk about her,” she hisses, stepping off the last stair to flaunt her height over the obnoxious woman. “She’s _dead.”_

How dare she bring up Beryl? How dare she talk like she _knew_ her, even a little bit, even at all?

Her dad recognizes the signs of her impending outburst, stepping in front of his wife protectively. “Thalia, calm down.”

Thalia laughs darkly in disbelief, ignoring her father’s reproachful gaze. “Sorry,” she spits. “I forgot I’m not fucking allowed to stand up for myself.”

“Language.”

“Right,” she says sarcastically. “Continue, _mother_.”

What a joke. Thalia’s never had a mother.

“ _Thalia_ ,” her father warns.

Juno clicks her tongue. “Don’t worry, love,” she says to her husband. “She’s just come home. Obviously, being back in Pasadena was unhealthier for her than we realized. She’ll need time to adjust to the way things are run in _our_ house.”

 _Our,_ she emphasizes, like Thalia has never had any claim to it. Like Thalia didn’t have a right to live with her own father, and it’s bold of her to attempt to fit into his otherwise perfect, wealthy life.

“Hey, go fuck yourself,” Thalia suggests bluntly. She never was one to back down; even under the threat of rousing her father’s ire.

Her father sighs wearily. What did he expect? She would come back after two years and her and Juno’s relationship would be exemplary? He shushes Juno’s next snarky response, ignoring her look of scorn.

“ _That’s enough_ ,” he husks. “Your mother and I are going to be late for our reservation. The country club closes at 2, so you can expect us home around then. Be responsible,” Dad reminds as he ushers his angry wife out the front door. “Call me if anything happens.”

Juno sends her a look that could wither flowers before she exits.

“We’ll be safe as houses,” Jason’s voice comes from behind her. _Has he been there the whole time? Had he seen her flip out on Juno?_ His heavy hand settles on her shoulder, and he starts waving farewell. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! Have a nice night!”

“ _Have a nice night_ ,” Thalia mocks in a funny voice, whenever her parents close the door behind themselves. “Suck up.”

He frowns at her sourly. “Would it kill you to pretend to be nice to her?”

“Yes,” Thalia answers instantly.

“If one of you would just let it go—”

“J, stay out of it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, I would,” Jason stresses the words. His eyes are wet, but they aren’t pouring over. She has to look away from them. “Lia, I knew her, too.”

“No!” Thalia snaps, regretting her volume almost immediately as her brother’s face falls. “You _really_ didn’t.” Her voice grows softer. She never meant to lose her temper, not at him. “I made sure of that.”

It’s true. She still has the scars to prove that. Jason has memories of being locked in a dark, barricaded closet, safe from their mother’s drunken fits. He’ll never know what it was like on the other side of the door, protecting him, crying out as broken glass pierced skin.

He never had to pick their mother off the floor and arrange her on the couch so she wouldn’t wake up with a grudge. Jason never had to clean vomit off the floors, or rinse blood out of his clothes, or lie to his teachers—telling them the bruises were from a clumsy fall, or a recess incident, or a stray flyball during one of his baseball games.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says softly. “You’re right. I—I don’t know what it was like. But I know you never gave Juno a chance, right from the beginning.”

Thalia scoffs. “You’re really defending her right now.”

“Thalia,” Jason says unevenly, voice cracking, hesitating until she finally looks him in the face again. “I’m _always_ on your side.”

_And I’m always on yours._

“We have to get ready,” she states, ignoring the dejected expression he wears at her change of subject. “C’mon, little bro, let’s go _dress nicely_ , whatever the fuck that means.”

She brushes past him to rush back up the stairs, but his arm closes around her waist, and his head falls into the crook of her neck. Thalia returns the hug, awkwardly, the hand that isn’t pinned to her side reaching behind him to rub soothing circles on his back.

“Love you, too,” she mutters. “Now, c’mon you big fucking softie.”

Thalia walks into her bedroom and quickly shuts the door behind her, like she can lock out her sudden influx of emotion. _Fuck._ Maybe she should stop smoking.

She hears Jason entering his own room, but she can still feel his sorrow through the walls. It drives Thalia insane. It makes her body restless—her legs want to carry her out, and rush to her little brother’s side; she wants to tell him that it’s _okay_ and dealing with their mother hadn’t been that bad, _really,_ and that she’s _fine._

But she doesn’t, because she’d be lying her ass off.

Thalia wants to shake this shit off; she has to get ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is in full-swing, and emotions are running high—especially Thalia's.
> 
> Sexy times in the next chapter.

Thalia's black satin sheets are rumpled, just as she left them when she crawled out of bed this morning. She snatches her phone from her queen-sized, four-poster bed, taking it with her into her adjoining bathroom.

She may have her reservations about being home again **,** but she can’t deny that she missed the luxury. Her studio apartment in Pasadena put a roof over her head, but not much else. During her two-year stint in art school, the only time she enjoyed a hot shower were nights she spent over at Rachel’s.

_Rachel Elizabeth Dare_ , Thalia reflects. The redhead has some serious talent—she puts most of the people in their school to shame—and she stays in the bougiest apartment Thalia’s ever seen. Of course, that’s where Daddy’s money came in.

It’s not like Thalia could judge. Her dad would have covered her living expenses, if she hadn’t insisted on doing it herself. Still, he slipped her money for everything else. He also tried several times to send her a bit extra, like she wouldn’t notice, but Thalia always made sure to transfer anything over back to his account.

She takes a second to study her room. Thalia is still in the process of getting all her things out of the garage, but the few of her belongings that have returned to the space make her smile. She has a cheesy, framed Sex Pistols poster above her bed.

Her favorite guitar—the refurbished 1968 Les Paul her dad bought her for her 9th birthday, black with gold trim—is propped up against her nightstand. It’s her first guitar, but she’s taken care of it well.

A framed picture of her and Jason is on the nightstand—she’s giving him a piggy-back ride in front of the Hollywood sign. It was one of the few times their mom had been sober and willing to do something fun with them; looking back, Thalia realizes Beryl only did it for the good publicity—pictures of them soon surfaced in the tabloids after their trip.

On the opposite nightstand, there’s a framed photo from her high school years; Thalia and Luke are supporting their best friend Annabeth on their shoulders, right after she won her soccer tournament. The blond girl is raising the trophy high above their heads, a triumphant grin on her face. Thalia is looking up at her, beyond proud, but Luke is staring into the lens of the camera with pale blue eyes, half of his mouth stretching upwards.

Thalia sighs heavily, willing Luke’s crooked smile from her mind. The last thing she needs right now is to think about Luke. Even though she’s mostly come to terms with his death, she knows Annabeth is still haunted by it, so she pulls out the top drawer of the nightstand and hides the photo in there.

In the bathroom, there’s a wide, bronze-framed mirror hovering over the black marble sink **.** The surface of the counter is smooth enough to sit on, the edges of it softened. There’s a normal-sized tub—not like the jacuzzi-sized one in her parent’s room—but her shower more than makes up for it.

The shower is a walk-in, with miniscule black-and-white tiling. The water comes from the ceiling of the shower, from a square panel that converts the droplets into a relaxing waterfall.

Yeah, she missed this.

Thalia begins to strip off her clothes—starting with the shirt Jason temporarily lent her, then moving on to her sports bra, boxers, and sweatpants. When she’s completely naked, she makes sure to give herself a once-over in the sizable, rectangular mirror.

She snarls playfully at her own reflection, winking for good measure.

“Killer,” she greets herself. “Sexy as always.”

Her phone buzzes, and she glances at it before she walks over to turn the shower on.

**Snapchat**

**from Reyna**

Thalia bites her bottom lip like it stands a chance of suppressing her impish smile. She opens the app, staring at Reyna’s adorable Bitmoji before she clicks the message.

She has to catch her balance against the glass shower door. Gorgeous, endless, dark legs, firm and muscled. Reyna is toned like a goddess, something Thalia can now attest to. She remembers the feel of Reyna’s powerful thighs, holding Thalia in place as she unraveled.

Reyna is just showing off her gladiator heels—Thalia knows that’s not _all_ she means to do—but it’s enough to make her pulse.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

She turns the faucet on, allowing the water to heat as she deliberates. Thalia bites her lip in contemplation. Should she send something back?

_You’re already naked,_ she reminds herself. It would just be the convenient thing to do.

Deciding to refrain—she could play hard-to-get, too, despite popular belief—she sets her phone down on the bronze towel rack and steps into the highly anticipated shower. The water cascades down her body as she lathers her hair with shampoo.

It only takes her ten minutes to wash up, and another ten to decide how to style her hair; she settles for a messier look, ruffling the short strands until her appearance makes sense. Her curly hair defies her, as it normally does without anything stronger than glue, but it looks presentable enough.

Thalia rummages through her closet, finally finding something her father would consider _nice._ Slim dress pants, silk dress shirt, and a form-fitting blazer—all black, naturally. Before she puts them on, she risks a glance to her nightstand.

_Reyna will be here,_ her mind reminds her suggestively.

“She might not want that,” she cautions herself. “How presumptuous of me.”

_Have you seen yourself?_

“Good point,” she concedes.

She walks over to the nightstand and pulls open the drawer. It doesn’t take her long to attach the strap to herself; she’s picked comfortable harnesses that are easy to pull on and off. Once she’s packing, she slides on her slim pants, tucking herself as comfortably as she can. There’s a slight bulge, but she doesn’t mind. She wants Reyna to be able to tell it’s there.

Thalia buttons up her dress shirt, forgoing any casing on her breasts. Her blazer is a bit tight as she pulls it on—it’s been since Grandma Rhea’s funeral since she’s worn it, and she’s spent a considerable amount of time in the gym since then.

Thalia throws open her bedroom door when she’s done, barging into Jason’s room. He’s dressed, too, thankfully, and he looks her opposite.

Jason settles on light khaki dress pants, a blue pinstripe button-up shirt, and a dark blue blazer. If Thalia saw someone dressed like that walking the streets at night, she’d mug them.

“You look nice,” he says genuinely. “You ready?”

“You, too,” she lies. She’s sure plenty of girls will faint over him tonight, even though he’s a raging homosexual. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He checks his watch. “Nico will probably get here first.”

Thalia snorts. “Doubtful. Annabeth.”

“Is that a bet I hear?” Jason replies smoothly.

“Loser has to do yoga with Juno for a week,” Thalia proposes, without missing a beat.

Jason cringes, but extends his hand. “Deal.”

She shakes it enthusiastically. “Namaste.”

The doorbell rings, cutting into their exchange. She motions for him to lead the way; together, they jog down the staircase. They walk to the front door, and Jason throws it open hurriedly, only to groan in disappointment.

“Wow,” Annabeth’s voice rings out as she crosses the threshold. “Don’t sound so excited to see me, Jace.”

“Namaste,” Jason grumbles, walking outside to sit on the winding porch.

Annabeth is gorgeous, and this is something Thalia’s known for years. She’s the type of girl that can wear ratty jeans and a stained t-shirt and look just as beautiful in it as she would in anything else. Still, Thalia appreciates that her and Jason aren’t the only people dressed uncomfortably.

Annabeth is in a nice silver cocktail dress, and a matching pair of pumps. Her boyfriend, Percy, stands behind her, toting a six-pack of lite beer. He smiles when he sees Thalia. He’s in a simple white dress shirt and khakis, but they fit him well.

“It’s so good to see you,” Annabeth tells her, enveloping her in a warm hug.

She comes up to Thalia’s shoulders in her heels; then again, Thalia hasn’t put her Doc Martens on yet. Annabeth pulls away to glare daggers with her gray eyes. Thalia knows the swat is coming before it lands. She clutches her chest playfully, but she is a little offended.

“That’s for staying gone for so long,” Annabeth explains.

Percy nods in agreement. “Yeah! Two years, and not one visit. Where do you get off, Grace?”

“On your mom,” Thalia retorts immaturely. She steps aside, ignoring his dramatic gasp. “C’mon inside. You know where to put the beer, Jackson.”

Percy mock-salutes, already running off to the first-floor kitchen. Annabeth walks with her to the entertainment room—an open circular area with enough seating to satisfy their guestlist. There’s two loveseats, a sectional, and a white, tufted chaise lounge in front of the large bay window, which provides a clear view of the pool.

The 85” flatscreen is mounted to the front wall, centered above their modern, glass-enclosed fireplace. This house never fails to send Annabeth into one of her architectural rants, so Thalia entertains her for a bit as they settle in.

She’s had a passion for architecture for as long as Thalia could remember. Annabeth used to sketch houses for them to someday live—for her, Luke, and Thalia to escape their pasts and form something new, something stable. Thalia wonders what happened to that idealistic teenage girl, but she knows. That girl died with Luke.

Still, she’s proud that Annabeth has made something of her dreams. Her best friend is going to a reputable college for her passion, not that anyone ever doubted she would.

Thalia nods throughout the conversation, trying her best not to tune out the words she doesn’t know. As Annabeth starts rambling using jargon like _baluster_ and _central archway_ , she’s more than a bit lost.

“You should talk to Dad tomorrow morning,” Thalia says, like it’s the brightest idea anyone has ever had. “You and Percy are more than welcome to stay over.”

Annabeth gives her a no-bullshit look. “If you want me to shut up, just say so.”

She’s not mad, though, Thalia can tell.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Thalia draws out. “Sorry, let me get you a drink.”

A small smirk quirks at the corner of Annabeth’s lips. “Better.”

Thalia sighs, wiping her hands on her dress pants needlessly, before making her way to her dad’s mancave. It’s just through the kitchen. She passes Percy, who she makes sure to kick behind the knees.

“Hey!” he says in outrage as he catches his balance on the counter.

“Hey,” Thalia says, sarcastically innocent. She cocks her head to the fridge. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and bring some mixers into the living room?”

He rolls his eyes, but relents, opening the fridge to raid its contents.

Thalia grins at his annoyance, leaving the kitchen to steal from her father’s mancave. The room looks more like a dive bar—a style which she appreciates. She snatches four bottles of liquor off one of the highest shelves, dangling two in each hand, between her strong, nimble fingers.

She carries them back to the living room, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch Annabeth’s lounging on.

A couple hours pass, Percy and Annabeth are a few drinks in, and the party is in full-swing. _Almost_ full-swing, Thalia amends, because she still hasn’t caught sight of Reyna. Was she still coming?

_She will be,_ Thalia told herself suggestively.

She shook her head bemusedly. This is one of the many reasons she doesn’t like to drink. She is horny enough as it is, without alcohol complicating matters.

The music is loud, pounding in her ears, but it’s not enough to drown out the sound of young adults cheering. Leo, a dark, curly-haired kid is doing tricks with his lighter again.

“Dude! Sick!”

“Ahh!”

_Ugh._

He’s always been a good friend to her brother, but he used to make her super uncomfortable, never taking her rejection for an answer. Now, years down the line, he’s stopped hitting on her for the most part but still does annoying little things to trigger her.

_Like playing with fire in her dad’s million-dollar home._

Before she can walk over there, Jason’s already snatching the lighter from his drunk friend’s hands. Thalia clicks her tongue; the kid better be thankful Jason got to him before she did. She isn’t above shaving his hair off in the kitchen sink.

“Leo, take it outside,” Jason suggests, opening the spotless, glass double-doors that open to the expansive backyard.

Some of the partygoers have already made their way outside, but as the smell of mouthwatering spices wafts into the house, more people begin to stumble through the doors. The hired caterers are manning grills, serving up platters of seared lamb, gyros, shish-kabobs, and tiropitas. The tiropitas—triangular pies, filled with feta cheese and fried—are no match for her Grandma Rhea’s, but they come close.

Thalia follows them outside, lured with the promise of food, her traitorous stomach pulling her away from the front room. She tried to wait for Reyna to show, but she can’t deny her hunger any longer.

The yard looks nice for the party. The patio floor is all stone, arranged in a modern geometric design. It’s freshly washed, thanks to her, and the caterers have arranged an assortment of serving tables—five in total—all covered in elegant cream-colored cloths.

Enchanting string lights twinkle from the roof, and black, torch-shaped light posts line the walkway to the glittering, free-form pool.

The lawn is immaculately cut for the occasion, if she does say so herself.

One of the caterers—Thalia recognizes her as the cute waitress that normally serves them—approaches her with a smile, offering her a shred of lamb, fresh off the grill.

“Taste test,” the girl says—Calypso, according to her nametag. She extends her fingers into Thalia’s personal space.

Thalia eagerly bites into it, pulling it out of Calypso’s grasp with sharp teeth. “Mm, very good,” she praises. “ _Efharisto_.”

Thalia’s limited Greek isn’t the smoothest, but it still brings a coquettish grin to the waitress’ face, smile lines creasing her cheeks.

Calypso blushes, reaching behind herself to adjust her apron. “Nothing but the best for the Graces.”

Thalia loves flirting, but she decides to end the fun there. She winks, grabbing a gyro from the buffet table, sauntering backwards until it’s appropriate for her to break eye contact. She spins on her heel, walking towards the deep end of the pool, where she sees a group of her friends huddled. She bites into the gyro, resisting the urge to moan at the taste. _Demeter’s_ hits different.

“Welcome back, bitch,” a hoarse voice greets when she nears them. Clarisse’s bulky arm settles over her shoulders, a cigarette burning in her other hand. She’s a couple inches shorter than Thalia, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. “Two years.”

Thalia swears if she hears how long she’s been gone one more time, she’s going to drown someone in the pool. She’s close to the edge—all it would take to send Clarisse to her watery death is a half-hearted push.

Thalia tries not to let her amusement show. She quickly scarfs down the rest of her food, unbothered by the looks she receives. She’s a messy eater. Thalia tilts her cup of crown and coke to take a sizable swig, washing it down.

“Should I have stayed?” she challenges.

Clarisse’s voice doesn’t soften—nothing about Clarisse _ever_ softens—but she squeezes Thalia’s shoulder once, as an appeasement. “I’m gonna see what kind of trouble I can get into with Pipes. It was good seeing you.”

“What’s her problem?” Percy asks. “She _loves_ picking fights with you.”

“No,” Thalia says, matter-of-factly. “She loves picking fights with _you._ Clarisse and I have an agreement.”

Percy rolls his eyes playfully. “Naturally.”

She sees he’s already taken the liberty of ditching his button-up shirt. He stands in front of everyone shirtless, water dripping from his messy black hair. He’s still wearing his khaki pants, although they are completely soaked through, but he’s ditched his socks and shoes somewhere.

Despite the fact that he should feel weird, being surrounded by twenty nicely dressed young adults, he looks totally in his element.

“You’ve already been swimming?” she notes drolly.

“You know him,” Annabeth intercedes. She sounds annoyed, but they all know better—she loves him and his antics. “I’m surprised he kept his pants on.”

Percy pouts. “I forgot to wear swim trunks underneath.”

The rest of them—Annabeth, her cousin Apollo, and herself—all erupt into laughter.

Percy’s dramatic pout twitches into a smile, unable to keep up the ruse at the sight of his friends’ enjoyment.

“Babe, put me down!”

Thalia turns her head and sees Jason carrying his boyfriend Nico—who is shorter than him, and skinny with lean muscle. He has easily thrown the dark-haired boy over his shoulder, ignoring his startled laughter. Thalia likes Nico. He’s a good kid. He’s been through a lot, maybe even more than she has, but he’s loyal and he makes Jason happy, and that’s enough for her.

“They’re cute,” a voice so melodical it sounds like he’s singing. Apollo. “How long have they been together?”

“Few months now,” Thalia supplies, matching his affectionate tone. “Jason’s pretty serious about him.”

Apollo shakes his head humorously, in mock disappointment. “Settling down so early. I told Jason to play the field a bit more—really find out what he likes in a man—but does he listen? Nope.”

“Jason’s not like that,” she defends. “He has a big heart.”

“Yeah,” Apollo agrees, reaching out his cup to cheers her. “Not like us, player.”

Thalia shoves at him, causing him to almost lose his balance and tumble into the heated water behind him. He laughs instead, clutching his chest. “What?” he asks incredulously. “Am I wrong? Has bad-girl Thalia Grace finally found _the one_?”

“No,” Thalia mutters, annoyed at his roasting. “Of course not.”

“Ahh, I get it,” Apollo says knowingly. He shoots her finger-guns. “You don’t want that cute waitress to overhear. Smart.”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. “You've only been back a week, and you’re already breaking hearts?”

Percy throws his arms out wide, shielding Annabeth from invisible gay rays. “Don’t get too close, Annabeth! She’ll convert you, too!”

_Okay, that’s it._

Thalia lifts her boot, Spartan-kicking Percy back into the pool. Apollo cackles, clutching his stomach again like Thalia is the funniest person he knows, which is probably true. When Percy resurfaces, he has an excited grin on his face. He obviously enjoyed that too much. Thalia would have to put more power behind her kick next time.

“C’mon, guys!” he shouts through cupped hands. “Join me!”

“Tomorrow,” Annabeth promises with a patient smile. _How does she do it?_ “We’re staying over,” she adds as a side-note to Thalia.

“Taking me up on my offer?” she asks.

Apollo wiggles his eyebrows.

Thalia elbows him. “Not like that, you pervert.”

He raises his hands in his defense. “Hey, none of my business, little cuz,” he says slyly. He looks somewhere over his shoulder. “I think I’m gonna get another drink. When I get back, you’re playing me a song.”

“Yeah, right,” Thalia says, shoving him lightly as he passes her.

Apollo loves music even more than she does, if that’s possible.

Percy shrugs his shoulders, flipping backwards as he begins to splash through the pool.

Annabeth starts to say something, but she falls silent, staring behind Thalia; her silver eyes are calculating, obviously intrigued.

“Is that Jason’s friend, walking this way?” she asks, confused. “Reyna, I think.”

Thalia tries not to let it show on her face, but she feels a rush, knowing that Reyna is walking over to them.

“Hey,” she hears her voice before Reyna steps into their semi-circle.

Reyna looks drop-dead gorgeous. Thalia can’t remember ever seeing her in a dress that short, although she’s seen her in almost everything else. It reminds her of those tiny athletic shorts Reyna used to wear around the Grace house, to torture Thalia.

Thalia’s attention is immediately drawn to her legs.

_Fuck._ Her legs are just as sinful as promised, accentuated with black gladiator heels, the ties hugging her calves deliciously. _And that dress_ —

“Thalia,” Annabeth hisses in warning, stomping on her booted foot for good measure. Her best friend then smiles unsurely at Reyna, extending a hand. “Hey, Reyna, right?”

Reyna hums in the affirmative, shaking her hand so professionally that Thalia hides her amused smile behind her cup. “And you’re Annabeth.”

Reyna then studies Thalia, who basks in the attention, sending her a more than friendly wink over the rim of her cup.

“Has Thalia been giving you trouble?”

“She always does,” Annabeth says affectionately, patting her on the cheek to irritate her. She looks between the two of them. “I didn’t know you two were close.”

Thalia knows not to underestimate Annabeth’s intelligence, but she’ll let her best friend come to her own conclusions. “Reyna is Jason’s _best_ friend,” she says obviously. “She practically lived here in high school. Of course we’re close.”

Reyna nods, and Thalia thinks her blush is the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

“Super close,” she agrees.

Reyna's brow furrows and, boldly, like it had come naturally, she reaches out. Her thumb swipes gently at the corner of Thalia's smirking lips, and a crumb falls from her face. Her caress is gone too quickly. Thalia can feel Annabeth's speculating gaze following their interaction.

"Sorry," Reyna says, gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. "You had...a little something."

"Thanks," Thalia says coyly, flicking her tongue across her bottom lip. "I'm a messy eater."

Reyna clears her throat, playing oblivious to the blush that continues to blossom in her cheeks.

“I’ll see you around," Reyna says politely to them both, but her eyes linger a bit too long on Thalia. "I’m going to go catch up with Jason and Nico.”

Hard to get, huh?

That’s fine, Thalia could play that game.

Thalia dutifully watches her hips sway as she leaves.

“Thalia!” Annabeth admonishes again. “Stop staring at her ass. God, you’re worse than Apollo.”

“Can you blame me?” she mutters. Under the heat of her friend’s judgmental glare, Thalia sighs. “It’s not like that, Annabeth.”

“It’s not?” Annabeth asks immediately. She looks like she wants to smile, and Thalia groans openly in annoyance. “So what you said to Apollo…?”

Thalia cracks an embarrassed smile under the pressure. “We hung out last weekend.”

Annabeth shoves at her, overcome with her own sudden interest. Before she can start interrogating Thalia—thankfully—Percy is crawling out of the pool, shaking his hair out much as a dog would.

“ _Baaaaabe_ ,” he drawls, sun-tanned arms wrapping around Annabeth from behind, instantly creating watermarks on her dress. He leans so that his head rests on his girlfriend’s shoulder. “Go with me to get a drink.”

Annabeth’s brow arches. “You can’t get it yourself?”

Percy smiles mischievously before he continues, still in that aggravating baby voice. “But _baaaaabe_ , Thalia’s house is just too big! Her family has _so_ much money. I’ll get lost if I go by myself!”

“Go,” Thalia suggests to Annabeth, “before I castrate your boyfriend with the serving tongs.”

Annabeth offers her an apologetic smile, but the spark in her eyes lets Thalia know that this conversation is far from over.

When she finally has a moment to herself, she naughtily bites her lip, seeing Reyna’s flirty smile in the forefront of her mind again. God, that girl plays even more coy than Thalia does; she likes being challenged like that.

_Where is Reyna?_

Maybe she’s found her way back into the house. Thalia considers the possibility, before deciding to walk back through the sheltered patio. She ignores Calypso’s flirty glances, pretending that she doesn’t notice them.

She then passes Clarisse and Piper, who are snuggling up on a cushioned bench. Clarisse is smoking another cigarette. She blows smoke at Thalia with a cackle.

Thalia steps into the house. The music is loud, growing in intensity as she nears the source. Someone’s playing _Blind Melon_. She doesn’t have to think too hard to realize that it’s Percy—alternative throwbacks are all he listens to.

All she sees are Jason’s friends—some she can’t even recall their names.

Frank, one of her brother’s friends from school, leans against the upstairs railing, hand gesturing to one of the elaborate Grace family portraits, like he’s trying to introduce them all. Hazel, his small girlfriend, crinkles her nose as she smiles up at him, nursing her mixed drink. There’s a black-haired kid laughing next to them, but she doesn’t recognize him. His eyes are a glaring red, so she can tell he’s been smoking.

Thalia spots another one of her own friends, sighing with relief as Phoebe approaches her. Her half-shaved head, sprouting with straight ginger hair, never fails to make her stand out in a crowd.

“Pheebs,” she greets, fist-bumping her as she approaches.

“Happy Graduation!”

Thalia can’t help but laugh at Phoebe’s drunken yell. “I graduated months ago. You’re a little late, but thanks.”

“ _Art school_ ,” Phoebe says next, smirking. “Like you’re not a big enough disappointment to Juno already.”

Thalia recalls her earlier spat with her stepmother, and she feels the familiar anger bristle in her throat, trying to claw its way out. She swallows it down with another sip of crown, knowing that her friend doesn’t mean anything by the dig.

Thalia laughs so hard to overcompensate that whiskey almost shoots out her nose. “Pheebs, don’t you have anything better to do?”

Phoebe clucks her tongue, looking around dramatically. “No, but it looks like Apollo does.”

Thalia smirks. “He’s talkin’ up the babes?”

That is no surprise.

Phoebe hums. “One of them. Can’t say I blame him. She’s gorgeous.”

Thalia takes the bait, inclining her head a bit behind her to see what all the fuss is about, only to stop cold. She doesn’t realize how precariously she’s choking her plastic cup until it splits under her grip, spilling whiskey through her tattooed fingers and onto the Jacobean floors.

“What the fuck, Thals?” Phoebe asks, stepping back to avoid the mess.

She hasn’t had enough alcohol to throw Apollo through Juno’s favorite bay window, but she’s getting there.

“Nothing,” she says, but the image haunts her after she’s looked away. Apollo, with a recent tan and his blond curls effortlessly styled, reclining on a loveseat with Reyna. She knows deep-down why it bothers her so much—the words haven’t been said, they _won’t_ be said, but Reyna is _hers._

She is going to _kill_ Apollo.

Thalia breathes raggedly through her nose, snatching the drink from Phoebe’s slack hands since she’s wasted her own and chugging it. She refills it, tuning out her friend’s stuttered protests.

Thalia downs another cup, gulping the bitter mixture with practiced ease.

She sees that gorgeous body every time she closes her eyes. The lace-backed **,** flowy dress fits her ridiculously well, the hem riding halfway up her thighs—where Apollo’s _fucking hand was._

_Fuck it._

Thalia spins to confront him, suddenly all too convinced, but Phoebe’s sudden grip on her shoulder is tight, and she reels her back.

“ _What_?” she growls.

Phoebe’s doe-brown eyes are wide—noticeably so—and she implores with them. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Thalia shrugs her off. “Nothing,” she lies. “Just drop it.”

“You look like you’re about to murder someone,” Phoebe disagrees, loudly enough that Thalia can’t mistake her words but quietly enough to ensure they aren’t overheard. “I’ve never seen you—”

Phoebe’s hesitance to finish her sentence sends an anxious rush up Thalia’s already tense spine. Unfortunately, she _has_ seen Thalia like this before. They met in high school. Phoebe had been her friend through her first serious relationship. She has seen firsthand how out-of-control Thalia's emotions can get.

“You’re jealous?” Phoebe accuses. “Of _Apollo_?” She laughs in disbelief. “Thalia, just go talk to her. She doesn’t exactly seem _thrilled_ by his intellect.”

Or lack thereof.

Thalia answers her in silence, which only feeds into her friend’s imagination.

Phoebe presses a hand to her own forehead, visibly stressing. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Thalia shrugs, brushing off the question. She forces a nonchalant smile. “It’s my homecoming. We gonna do a shot or what?”

She can’t feel these… _feelings_ if she’s fucked up enough. Besides, she just wants Phoebe to drop this, if she isn’t going to let Thalia pummel Apollo’s face in. Thankfully, her friend takes the bait.

“Fine,” Phoebe concedes, letting it go and pouring them two shots—though Thalia notices the one she gives to her is significantly fuller. “Cheers.”

Thalia clinks their glasses, vodka swishing from the rim before she raises it to her lips, throwing the shot back with the elegance of a frat boy. It burns a bit going down, but the whiskey she’s been sipping all night saves her from needing a chaser. Her tongue feels heavier, her throat tingling. Phoebe, although she’s been drinking nearly as long as Thalia has, makes a disgusting face at the taste.

“OW!”

Thalia’s eyes shoot to Reyna again, before her mind can give her a million reasons not to. Apollo is clutching his rapidly reddening cheek. Jason is standing to Reyna’s side protectively, but for some reason Thalia thinks Reyna’s not the one that will need protecting.

“Man!” Apollo curses, standing from the loveseat, still nursing his face. “I’m so out of here.”

Even though her older cousin storms out of the house without a word, Thalia doesn’t feel any better. He had obviously crossed a line with Reyna, and she had put him in his place. That should have been enough.

Instead, all Thalia can fixate on is the sight of his hands on her caramel skin, and the only solution is to drink until she can’t see it anymore.

Reyna catches her gaze; Thalia hasn’t realized until this moment that she’s still staring. She looks away quickly, hating how sheepish the action felt.

_Please don’t come over here. Please don’t come over here._

Thalia doesn’t think she can keep her cool if she does.

_Fuck it._

_Thalia fucking Grace doesn’t hide._

She sighs to herself, running an unsteady hand through her hair, making it even messier, before resolving her features. It wouldn’t do for Reyna to see how much she affects her.

She heads over to fill Apollo’s previously occupied cushion, not missing Reyna’s look of surprise. It’s endearing, and it helps Thalia’s lips stretch into a confident smirk.

“Sorry about him,” Thalia offers, unable to keep _all_ the frustration from her voice. “He’s—”

“I remember,” Reyna says softly. Her eyes are so hard to look away from. They seem to burn the brightest when Thalia’s nervous. “Hi again.”

“Hey,” she replies.

Thalia’s unable to keep her eyes from wandering—Reyna isn’t showing much in the way of cleavage (though it’s not like she _needs_ to show any; Thalia has seen firsthand just how glorious her breasts are), but her _thighs._

The dress is a midnight green that contrasts beautifully with Reyna’s umber irises. Thalia imagines it would be longer on someone else—Reyna is not short by any means, even though Thalia towers over her. The neckline is composed of a flowery lace that does nothing to mask her defined collarbones.

It’s suddenly so very easy to forget why she had been angry in the first place.

She sees a tiny smirk playing on Reyna’s lips, and that wakes her from her trance. Busted.

“Jason’s the life of the party,” Reyna says, but her tone is indistinguishable. “If you take any more shots, you’ll outshine him.”

It’s true. Jason, like always, is approaching people before they can make their way to him, delighting them in enthused conversation and introducing them to his boyfriend. She’s thankful; even though they threw this party with the illusion it would be a _welcome home_ , Jason knows she doesn’t want all the attention on her, really. He’s the social butterfly.

“You trying to say I’m drunk?” Thalia questions jokingly. “You haven’t _seen_ me drunk yet.”

Reyna makes a face like she’s thinking, but it’s mischievous underneath. “Hm. What about after graduation, when you tried to crawl into your bedroom window?”

“What?” Thalia laughs. “No, I didn’t.”

Reyna smiles in a way that makes her suddenly unsure. “I distinctly remember being scared shitless when you fell into Jason’s room.”

_Oh._ So maybe she did.

“Okay,” Thalia relents. “So, you’ve seen me drunk. You should know then that I am _not_ drunk.”

“Never said you were,” Reyna points out smartly, taking a sip of her own drink.

Thalia wonders what she’s drinking. She wants to taste Reyna’s tongue and decipher it for herself.

“Are _you_ drunk, Ms. Ramirez-Arellano?” Thalia teases, making sure she uses her full last name this time.

Reyna is about to say something, when their exchange is unduly interrupted.

“Thalia!”

A firm weight settles onto her defenseless lap, accompanying the voice.

Thalia hopes her smile looks less like a grimace than it feels. “Drew,” she says with false enthusiasm. She tries not to make eye contact, inclining her head closer to Reyna like that can do something to protect her. “Who are you here with?”

A nicer way of asking _who the fuck invited you?_

“My sister invited me,” Drew says slowly. _Ugh, why, Piper?_ “Duh.” She smiles brightly. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

The short answer? No. The complicated answer? _Hell_ no.

Drew is a pretty girl. She’s bold, a bit haughty (just like herself), and a lot of fun. She’s also a one-night-stand. Thalia isn’t interested in that—or her.

“I’m happy to be home,” she says instead, carefully choosing her words.

Thalia doesn’t mean to tune Drew out, she really doesn’t; but, after she looks back at Reyna, she’s struck by the amount of emotion she sees. Reyna’s white-knuckled hand is gripping the arm of the loveseat so hard it makes the fabric crinkle, and her eyes are narrowed into slits. She’s never seen this much fire in Reyna’s eyes before, except…

Well, that had been a different kind of fire.

Just as quickly as it had taken Reyna over, the fire dissolves into subtle embers; her strong fingers release the fabric, and her gaze flickers away from Thalia’s. Reyna, always in control.

Thalia needs Drew to get away from them, now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter for "That Way."
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading, and don't hesitate to comment and let me know what you think ! :)
> 
> warning: sex and stuff ahead (rough-ish)

“ _Hello_!”

Thalia returns her eyes to Drew slowly, hesitantly. _Uh-oh, she looks mad_. Thalia thinks about running off to re-park her bike, thinking of the time she got her tires slashed.

“I _said,_ will you do a shot off me?” She winks, charmingly. “It can be your welcome home present.”

Thalia snickers, shaking her head just slightly. “I don’t think so, Drew.”

Drew does that annoying pout—Thalia guesses it probably works on _somebody,_ but it’s not going to work on her.

“C’mon!” she pleads. “For old time’s sake.”

“There’s no old time,” Thalia says, unable to help her sneer. What? She’s drunk, it’s not like she’s expected to act like Mother Teresa. “Let it go, Drew. I said no.”

“Then let me do a shot off you,” Drew argues, undeterred.

Thalia considers, but only because she’d do anything at this point to get Drew to leave them in peace. She wants to talk to Reyna.

“What kind of shot?”

“You know what kind of shot,” Drew answers with a wink, reaching out to trace Thalia’s upper chest with a delicate finger. She leans forward and whispers in the shell of her ear, “I want to give you a _blowjob_ , silly.”

Thalia sees the other girl’s dark eyes flicker to Reyna for a second, but she doesn’t have time to wonder about that. Her fingertips feel cool against Thalia’s otherwise heated skin; the alcohol makes her more receptive to physical touch. Even if she doesn’t want Drew, she can’t resist giving into the attention, at least a little bit.

“Sure,” Thalia relents, biting her lip to hide her impending smirk.

Drew clapped her hands together excitedly, springing up from Thalia’s lap to disappear into the bar. Thalia turns to Reyna, but she’s no longer maintaining eye contact. Her lips are pursed as her eyes search the room; she’s looking for an escape. She apparently finds it. Reyna stands up quickly, too quickly for Thalia’s hands to stop her.

“Rey—”

“Blowjob!”

Leo’s immature yell makes Thalia think about slamming him face-first into the fireplace. At his boisterous declaration, all eyes turn to her. Her brother is giving her a look like: _What are you doing, you idiot?_

He looks like he’s about to intervene, when Drew is back in front of her, dropping to her knees smoothly, a whipped cream-topped shot glass in her hands. Her long, straight black hair is in a loose ponytail now.

Thalia takes the shot glass from her hands, placing it over her crotch, taking extra care not to press down too firmly on her strap. The excited gleam in Drew’s eyes tells her that the other girl is undoubtedly aware of its presence.

“What are you waiting for?” Thalia mutters impatiently, eyes fixated on the narrowed black pearls ogling her.

 _Wow,_ she _does_ have a type.

The other girl’s arms fly behind her back, and Thalia inhales deeply through her nose. Drew slowly lowers her head, never breaking eye contact. She can’t prevent her mind from refreshing her memory—seeing Drew on her knees one other time, taking her dick into her mouth, getting it nice and wet to slip it inside her.

_Shit._

There are people cheering behind her, but it’s mostly just Leo, excited to see some girl-on-girl action.

Drew’s lips close over the top of the shot glass, and all Thalia can think about is how sexy Reyna would be, surrendering herself to Thalia in front of the crowd. Drew tips her head back, taking the shot glass with her, draining its contents and using her tongue to swipe at the whipped cream.

When she pulls the glass away from her lips, there’s a line of cream lining her top lip. Her tongue escapes her mouth, licking the leftover cream slowly, tauntingly. It does nothing but intensify Thalia’s fantasy—in her tipsy mind, Reyna is licking cream from the inside of her thighs, holding her in her mesmerizing eyes while she does so.

“Welcome home,” Drew says huskily, sauntering away to rejoin the party, entertaining Leo’s appreciative commentary.

Thalia shakes her head, releasing a tense breath as she surveys the crowd around her. Some of her friends—Phoebe, Clarisse, and Percy—are hooting in her general direction. Jason is speaking in low-tones to his boyfriend, Nico. Even from across the room, Thalia can tell that Nico is upset about something. Annabeth is staring directly at Thalia, like she always does after she does something impulsive and short-sighted.

Thalia sighs, ignoring the urge to glare her bestfriend down. Her eyes search for Reyna until they find her. She’s walking briskly through the crowd.

What is she doing? Thalia isn't used to girls running _away_ from her. Her body screams at her to stand up and chase her down _,_ but Thalia remains, sinking deeper into the couch.

She feels something she hasn’t felt in years—her heart lurches, quick and buoyant like a puck sailing on a Test-Your-Strength machine, like Reyna’s taken a mallet to it.

Why does Thalia feel so guilty? They aren’t _dating._ She hasn’t done anything wrong. Fuck, she’s too drunk for this.

She can’t be sure where Reyna is going—she’s walking further away (outside to the pool, perhaps)—but she stops breathing when a hand settles on Reyna’s elbow, gently pulling her from her intended destination.

_Apollo._

Didn't he leave?

Judging by the sorry expression on his face, she’s guessing he’s sobered up enough to offer Reyna an apology. Thalia doesn’t give a shit what he’s trying to do—she cares that Reyna is entertaining him and not hitting him across the face again.

She watches them with cold blue slivers; though she can’t hear them, she doesn’t need to. Thalia knows what it looks like when Reyna laughs. All she can hear is the song that’s blaring over the stereo system, and she finds it highly ironic.

_Run me in circles_

_Like you always do_

_Mess with me on purpose_

_So I'll hang onto you_

_You’re fucking stupid,_ Thalia chastises herself.

Thalia watches as Reyna tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she grits her teeth. She gets the urge to destroy herself again, so she snatches an almost empty bottle from the floor, not caring what it is as long as it numbs her anger.

She takes a long draw from it, feeling a body settling onto the loveseat next to her, taking Reyna’s place.

“Hey,” a soft but strong voice. Annabeth. “You want to talk about it?”

Thalia turns reluctant eyes to her, grunting an answer that she can’t even decipher herself, but Annabeth seems to understand.

“Thals,” she says patiently, but with the no-nonsense scowl she wears frequently. “You let another girl do a _blowjob_ shot off your crotch. You have no right to be upset.”

Her bestfriend isn’t afraid to call her out on her bullshit, but that doesn’t mean Thalia wants to hear it.

“And? Reyna and I aren’t dating,” she says, with more fire than she means to.

Annabeth arches that superior brow again. It’s never failed to make Thalia feel stupid. “So, why are you so jealous that she’s talking to Apollo?”

Thalia chuckles bitterly, caught in more ways than one. “He can have her.”

“You don’t mean that,” Annabeth accuses. “Thalia…I’ve only seen you act this way with—”

_Zoë._

“ _Don’t_ ,” Thalia warns hoarsely. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what _is_ it like?” Annabeth challenges. “Because, from where I’m sitting, you’re both _really_ into each other and being _really_ stupid about it.”

Thalia shakes her head. She feels ridiculous as she says it, but it’s hard to hold herself back with Annabeth. “Doubt she’s into me anymore.”

Annabeth sighs impatiently. “And I thought Percy was oblivious.”

“Look,” Thalia says firmly. “I know what you’re trying to do—and, really, I appreciate it—but just drop it.”

Annabeth scowls again, like she really expected more from Thalia. “Okay. _Fine_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she repeats bluntly. “Bye.”

Annabeth leaves her.

She feels bad immediately for dismissing her. She rubs her temples exhaustedly. Isn’t this party supposed to be fun, instead of mentally fucking taxing?

Thalia lounges back into the cushions, wishing she could just melt into them. She sees Leo trying to stumble over to her, and she outwardly groans. Just what she needs right now, a pesky straight friend of her brother’s coming to harass her.

“Listen, Leo—”

Before she can end her sentence with about five different insults, Leo trips over Juno’s Roomba, falling head-first into the coffee table; his drink, filled to the brim, flies from his hands. Some of the liquid ends up on the cushions, but most of it soaks into her expensive dress pants.

Leo scrambles to his feet hurriedly, almost losing his balance again as he clutches his skull. “Hot stuff!” he greets her drunkenly. “Sorry ‘bout the drink—” _hiccup!_ “—can I get you another one?”

“Fuck off, Leo,” she snarls, enjoying the rush of fear that shines in his brown eyes before he hurries away from her.

_Don’t beat the shit out of Jason’s friend. Don’t do it._

Thalia sees Apollo still amiably talking to the girl of her dreams, but Reyna’s eyes are trained on hers, clearly amused but there’s also something unrecognizable there. Thalia huffs, standing uncomfortably from the seat, feeling the sugary mixer on her skin, making her dress pants cling to her legs.

Brushing past her friends that try to pull her to the side—including a laughing Phoebe and a conflicted Jason—Thalia takes the stairs to her bedroom, two at a time, passing that stupid fucking portrait on her way up. When she’s safely in her room, she goes about unbuckling her belt. She needs to wash this shit off her before it dries.

Thalia walks to the bathroom while she pulls her belt from its loops. She turns on the faucet of the sink, the sound of the rushing water almost masking the noise of her bedroom door opening.

She sighs heavily. “Jason, I’m fine.”

He doesn’t answer.

Thalia pulls her pants lower, to mid-thigh, using the now damp hand towel to wipe the sticky mystery concoction from her skin.

“I know I fucked up, okay? What else do you want me to say?”

“Sorry would be nice,” Reyna’s voice startles her so much she almost slips on the tile floor. Thalia sees her beautiful reflection in the mirror, and she musters up the strength to turn and face the real thing. Reyna’s eyes flicker to her strap, then back up to her slightly flushed cheeks. “Is that for me…or Drew?”

Thalia is instantly on edge at the comment. “Is that dress for me or Apollo?”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Reyna breathes.

“Yeah, I know—”

“ _Cállate._ ”

Thalia isn’t sure what that means, but she has no time to dwell on it.

One of Reyna’s hands tangles into her hair, tugging the styled strands and driving Thalia’s face forward. Her force is enough to encourage an anticipatory groan from Thalia’s chest, as their lips seal together. Reyna’s tongue claims her mouth, slipping through her lips and filling her senses. It’s a possessive kiss, but just as passionate as every kiss from her feels. Thalia’s heart is lurching again, ricocheting off her ribs.

“ _Tequila_ ,” Thalia murmurs, entranced, as they pull away for breath.

“What?” Reyna asks, confused, eyes still closed.

“Nothing,” she replies hurriedly, reeling Reyna back in.

Thalia’s hands travel lower, swiftly finding the heated skin of Reyna’s incredible thighs, and she almost growls against her mouth—the image of Apollo flashing in her mind’s eye.

She trails away from Reyna’s sweet lips, her head burrowing into her neck. Her teeth find her pulse point, and she applies just enough pressure that Reyna gasps, clutching onto her hair and neck, her nails biting crescent moons into the nape. Thalia purrs under the attention, bucking her hips into Reyna’s until she gets the hint.

Reyna spreads her legs invitingly, and Thalia grips her underneath her thighs, hefting her up and setting her on the marble countertop. She can’t seem to keep her hands off the younger woman’s legs, stroking them mindlessly like an animal, from her muscled calves to her panty-line.

Thalia’s usually more controlled than this, but she can’t help her instincts, screaming at her to claim the other girl, to make her come so many times she won’t be able to walk back downstairs. She wants to make Reyna scream. She wants Apollo to hear them. Thalia wants the entire house to hear the pleasure she brings her.

Set in her task, Thalia pulls away from her flushed skin, ignoring her murmured protests.

“Shh,” she whispers hoarsely. “I’ll take care of you, Rey.”

Thalia drops to her knees, and her heart stutters at the way Reyna’s eyes study her. She’s never gotten on her knees for anyone. Reyna’s different.

Thalia’s steady hands reach the flared skirt of Reyna’s dress, and she pulls it up, over her hips. Thalia’s so tall, even on her knees she almost isn’t eye-level with the other girl’s black, lacy boyshorts. She has to bend her head to line her mouth up properly.

At the first touch of her lips to her lace-covered center, Reyna softly gasps, reaching for Thalia’s hair again. Thalia tries not to smile, focusing on the task at hand. Reyna loves the feel of her hair, and Thalia loves the pain.

Thalia kisses her clit over the material, teasing Reyna with light brushes of her tongue.

Reyna’s voice is sharp, domineering, and it makes Thalia pause. “Stop teasing,” she says, arching into her mouth. “I need you.”

Her words have the desired effect. Thalia hooks her fingers under the hem of her skimpy panties, swiftly tugging them from her legs. She blows cold air over Reyna’s wet sex, just to get a rise from her, before she gives in. The first broad stripe of her tongue sends the other girl into cursing. Reyna doesn’t allow her to budge, keeping her right where she wants her with a firm, commanding hand.

_Hot._

Thalia devours her whole, tasting her with a sense of urgency, like it’s her first meal in weeks. It might as well be. She doesn't think she'll ever grow tired of Reyna's taste. Thalia doesn't care if she's being dramatic—it's fucking _ambrosia._

She feels Reyna’s thighs clamp around her head, the moans pouring out of her mouth like she’s singing. It’s not enough. She isn’t loud enough, not nearly as loud as Thalia needs her to be right now.

Thalia stands up from her crouch, ignoring Reyna’s breathy protests. She tugs Reyna from the counter and spins her body around. She pushes the shorter girl forward, until she’s bent over the counter, her glorious, shapely ass pressed against Thalia’s ardor.

“Thals,” Reyna gasps. “What are you—?”

Thalia brings her hand down before she can really think about it, spanking her cheek hard enough to stop her sentence short. She almost feels bad for her impulsive action. She rolls the dress up over her ass, caressing the sore cheek tenderly as an apology.

“Do it again,” Reyna rasps. “Thalia—fuck— _again_.”

_Hotter._

Thalia caresses her ass before giving her what she asks for. Her palm strikes the opposite cheek even harder, and she swells when a startled groan escapes Reyna. She alternates between the two, until the cheeks are a blazing red, and Reyna is lying flat on the counter, her eyes half-lidded.

That wouldn’t do.

Thalia uses her hand to wrap Reyna’s plaited hair, tugging her back until she is forced to gaze at their forms in the mirror. Reyna's throat bobs as she swallows, her eyes meeting Thalia's in the glass.

"What do you want?" Thalia rasps, trailing her parted lips across the flushed skin of Reyna's neck. "Tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear you say it."

Reyna's eyes narrow at their reflection, her lips stretching into a seductive smile that makes Thalia all too aware of the pulsing between her own legs. "I want to feel you," Reyna answers, her voice a gravelly whisper. It gives Thalia chills. "All of you. I want you to fuck me."

With her free hand, Thalia guides herself into the girl’s wet, clasping heat. She fills her with a single, sudden thrust, bottoming out, and she watches their shared reflection, transfixed, as Reyna’s mouth drops open, and her eyes roll back.

“Watch,” Thalia growls, wrenching her head back further until she earns herself a startled wince. She pulls out to the tip before hammering back inside. “Who fucks you this good? Who can make you feel like this?”

_Not Apollo._

“You!” Reyna screams, arching her back, eagerly accepting the rough, brutish pace Thalia has set. “Only—only you—fuck!”

Thalia bends over her prone form, grinding into the girl below her, rocking her body against the smooth counter. She licks the shell of her ear, enjoying her shudders, before she bites into the lobe, tugging until the delighted breathing melts into a pained gasp.

“You’re mine,” Thalia husks—just drunk enough to admit it aloud. “Say it!”

“ _Tuya_ ,” Reyna moans. Thalia can only assume she agrees. She quivers beneath Thalia's weight. “I’m so close."

“Come for me,” Thalia encourages, unable to refrain from speeding up, driving herself impossibly deeper, her thrusts unrestrained. “Scream for me, Rey. I want everyone to hear you. Tell them who’s making you come.”

“I’m coming!” Reyna obliges, her voice reaching a pitch it hadn’t a week before. “Thalia, _dámelo_! Fuck me!”

Fuck, she loves when Reyna speaks dirty—but she loves it even more when it’s in Spanish. Drunk Reyna seems less concerned about her volume, and her words drive Thalia crazy.

“Open your eyes,” Thalia growls the demand, using her grip on Reyna’s dark hair to direct her view. They make eye contact as Reyna comes undone, clenching around her dick, and Thalia’s lips stretch into a roguish smirk. “You’re coming for _me_.”

Although she’s beautiful to watch as she unravels, Thalia doesn’t give her time to recover. She pulls out of Reyna quickly; the other girl whines, but she lifts her up again, those gorgeous legs tangling around her waist. Thalia presses her against her bathroom wall, capturing her lips in a messy kiss.

Reyna moans, pleased, at the taste of herself and the whiskey on Thalia’s tongue.

Before anything can be said—Reyna’s eyes are begging for a conversation—Thalia enters her again, setting a slower pace that feels just as nice. She drags out gently, allowing Reyna to feel every inch of her dick.

“I want you to come in me,” Reyna reveals, voice raspy and expended from her screaming, pressing their chests close. Thalia suddenly wishes she had taken the time to remove their pesky clothing, so that she could feel Reyna’s luxurious skin against her own again.

Thalia smiles a bit, amused, and Reyna throws her head back—whether it’s because she’s annoyed or because of the angle, Thalia can’t tell. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Thalia purrs, grinding slowly but firmly enough that she feels the pressure on her clit. “You want me to come while I’m fucking you.”

Even through the layers between them, it feels so fucking _good_ that Thalia doesn’t think she’ll last very long. Something about Reyna just ignites her fervor, her pleasure reaching its crescendo embarrassingly quick.

But she’s not going to come before Reyna does.

Thalia’s a gentleman, after all.

Her deft fingers find Reyna’s clit easily, circling it slowly and in tandem with her thrusts. Reyna gasps softly, and the little whimpers excite Thalia as much as her screams do. Reyna’s wet—so fucking wet—that Thalia’s fingers slide across her swollen clit with ease, the slightest pressure bringing Reyna to the brink again.

“With me,” Reyna pleads with a soft exhale. “Please, come with me.”

Thalia feels _electric._ Her body is buzzing, and it feels almost like her limbs are asleep, rumbling with static energy.

“Thalia,” Reyna pants, throwing her head back against the wall as she lets go, grinding her hips into Thalia’s fingers.

Her orgasm pushes Thalia over the edge.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Thalia gasps, losing her rhythm as she bucks into Reyna’s trembling sex. The electricity in her body explodes, and her walls spasm, clenching hungrily around nothing as Reyna takes her face in her hands, swallowing her soft moans with a kiss.

“You’re mine, too.”

Thalia opens her eyes, dazed, looking into Reyna’s softened gaze.

“Yours,” Thalia agrees softly. “Reyna…I’m sorry, about earlier.”

Reyna rolls her eyes. “There’s that apology. Was that so hard?”

Thalia chuckles, internally so relieved they cleared that up, as she claims Reyna’s mouth again. When they pull away, Reyna’s palms remain on her cheeks, holding their faces close.

“You're kind of hot when you're jealous,” Reyna jokes, stroking the soft plain of Thalia’s face.

Now it’s Thalia’s turn to roll her eyes. “I don’t get jealous, Reyna.”

Reyna’s dark, immaculately sculpted eyebrow arches. “Do you always look at Apollo like you're going to murder him in his sleep?”

Thalia’s freckled cheeks flush. “Oh. You noticed that?”

“Yes,” Reyna says, matter-of-factly. “Is that why you entertained Drew? Because you were jealous?”

Thalia shakes her head. “I didn't want her to cause a scene. It was the easiest way to get her to go.”

Reyna’s face is serious. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true,” Thalia mumbles. She leaves out the fact that she enjoyed the attention—Reyna already knows that. “Drew doesn’t like taking no for an answer.”

“Well, she’s going to start,” Reyna says assertively. “Who does she think she is? Pressuring you like that?”

Thalia doesn’t see jealousy in her eyes—just concern. It makes her feel…protected. Defended. Reyna’s gazing at her with something she’s seen plenty of times, in the eyes of her previous lovers, but Thalia’s never felt like reciprocating until this moment.

People never really seem to want anything more than sex from her; still, Thalia can’t shake the feeling— _friends don’t look at friends that way._

“We should get back to the party,” Thalia says hesitantly. “Jason will come looking for us soon.”

Reyna smiles, and Thalia feels like she can breathe again. “You’re right. He's probably worried about you.”

Thalia withdraws slowly, gently assisting Reyna in returning her heeled feet to the bathroom floor.

She watches as Reyna adjusts her dress before swiping a baby wipe from the towel rack. Thalia turns away respectfully as she cleans herself up. When Reyna’s done, she pecks her one last time on the lips.

“You should wash up,” Reyna suggests, amusement glinting in her deep-set eyes. “And change your pants.”

Thalia remembers Leo, spilling the drink all over her, but she can’t find it in herself to be irritated anymore.

“Right,” she says with a disbelieving chuckle. “I’ll catch you downstairs.”

Reyna smiles one last time, lingering in the bathroom doorway, before she leaves Thalia to her own devices. Thalia shakes her head, beginning to wiggle out of her pants, which are now sticking to her skin. Great.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees something that makes her knees weaker than they already feel. Reyna’s lacy black underwear, laying discarded on her bathroom floor.


End file.
